


Rain and Tea

by madsydva



Series: Quiet Brave Hero Dreaming in the  Rain [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Rain, Sad, Tea, background Johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: Mycroft ends up at Baker Street after a long walk in the rain.





	Rain and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is to fill a the prompt: Rain for the Mystrade is our Division Facebook group challenge.
> 
> This is part 2 of this story. You’ll want to read part one first!!

Mycroft carries his umbrella in the rain, unopened, and uses it as a walking stick at his side. It had only been raining a few minutes and his jacket was already soaked through. 

After a few quiet moments in the church, Mycroft had exited out the side door and onto the pavement. The beautiful blue that had colored the sky when he had entered the Church was now covered with heavy grey clouds, looking ready to burst. He walked down the pavement slowly and the black town car pulled up beside him. The driver’s window goes down.

“Sir?” The driver asks.

“Go on home, Jeremy. I’m going to walk a bit.” Mycroft replies, still walking slowly with the town car creeping next to him. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” Mycroft pauses and turns towards the car. “In fact, take Anthea for tea. She’d like that.”

Jeremy clears his throat. “Right.”

"I’ll let you know if I will be in need of transportation later.”

“Yes, Sir.” The window rolled up and the car pulled away.

And now he was walking aimlessly through the streets, in the pouring rain. Mycroft walked for what seemed liked hours, before he realized that he was standing in front of Baker Street. 

Suddenly, Mycroft felt the chill and heaviness of his soaked jacket and stepped up to the door and rang the bell. It was a few long minutes before Mycroft heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. 

The door opens and a pajama and dressing gown clad Sherlock stands on the other side, his arm still in a sling.

“Brother, you’re soaked. Come inside.”

Mycroft steps inside and removes his dripping jacket and hangs it up, leaning his umbrella up against the wall. 

“Sherlock! I told you I could get the door!” John thumps down the steps, still pulling a t-shirt over his head. 

“I’m fine, John.” Sherlock limps back up the stairs meeting John on the landing. 

“You have a sprained ankle and it’s swelling because of those bloody shoes you were...” John spies Mycroft standing at the bottom of the steps. “Oh! Hey Mycroft. Come on up. I’ve just put the kettle on.” John grabs Sherlock by the elbow of his good arm and lets him lean on him as they ascend the stairs, with Mycroft behind. 

John guides Sherlock to his chair helping him sit and rest his slinged arm comfortably and then disappears down the hall bringing a bath towel back for Mycroft.

Mycroft takes the towel and dries his face and neck, standing awkwardly in the center of the room for a moment. John returns with a glass of water and some paracetamol for Sherlock.

“Mycroft, please, sit.” John gestures to his armchair. 

“Where’s Rosamund?” Mycroft asks as he sits.

“Mrs. H and Molly took her for an ice cream. For being quiet during the funeral and maybe to cheer her up a bit.” John shrugs. The kettle boils and John disappears back into the kitchen.

Mycroft and Sherlock sit in silence for a moment before Mycroft speaks up. “How is you shoulder faring, Brother?”

“It’s fine. Clean break of the clavicle. I just have to keep it immobile for a few weeks.” 

Mycroft nods. John re-enters and sets a tea tray with three cups onto the side table next to Mycroft. He hands a cup  
to Mycroft and picks up the other two and turns towards Sherlock.

“Did you take those pain pills?” John asks handing him his cup.

“Yes, Doctor Watson.” Sherlock gives him a small smirk and sips his tea. John hums, satisfied and perches on the arm of Sherlock’s chair, sipping his tea, draping his free arm across the back of the chair, his fingers playing at the back of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock glances up at John and then back at Mycroft.

“You never made it to the cemetery?” John starts, trying to fill the silence. 

“No... I decided to go for a walk.” Mycroft answers.

“You walked all the way from the church?” John asks a little bewildered. 

Mycroft nods. “I needed to clear my head.”

“How are you doing, Mycroft? With everything?” John asks and Sherlock sips his tea, staying quiet.

“Not... well. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much despair in my entire life.” Mycroft looks blankly down into his cup.

“And why do you think that is, Brother?” Sherlock asks softly. John waits for it... the bite of bitterness that almost always comes between the two when talking about awkward and sensitive things. But it doesn’t come.

Instead Mycroft sighs. “Because I was in love with him. I loved him so very much.” Mycroft chokes a little trying to fight back tears again. He takes a sip of his tea to try and wash them away. “I fear that I never had the chance to let Gregory know the true nature of my feelings for him.”

Sherlock looks back up at him quickly. “He knew, Brother-mine.”

“And he felt the same.” John cuts in lightly. “Sometimes you were all he could talk about when we went for pints.” A smile plays across John’s lips as he takes a sip of his tea and glances down at Sherlock, who puts his hand up on John’s thigh. 

A shy smile crosses Mycroft’s lips as he looks down into his tea. “This tea is delicious, John. Where ever did you get it? Earl Grey with lavender?”

“Mmm.” John swallows a sip. “Actually, Sherlock found it online. Got it for me for my birthday. It came from America. Kansas, right, Love?” He stands to pad back into the kitchen to retrieve the canister. “They call it Dorian Grey.” John snorts, coming back into the sitting room.

“I had to buy two packages and sample it before giving it to him. You never know with teas coming from over there. I was surprised that they actually got it right.” Sherlock says a bit arrogantly.

There’s a commotion downstairs as the front door opens. Rosie’s babbles can be heard coming up the stairs. 

“That’ll be the girls then.” John says setting his cup down on the tray.

“I should go. That way you can get Rosamund settled for the evening.” Mycroft stands, setting his cup down. 

“You don’t have to...” Sherlock starts.

“No, I should go home and change out of these wet clothes.” Mycroft says, typing away on his phone texting his driver. Sherlock nods. 

Molly appears on the landing and peeks her head through the door. “Someone was eager to get home.” Rosie squirms in her arms as she steps through the door.

“Da. Papa!” She squeals. Molly sets her down and she runs towards Sherlock climbing into his lap. “Papa!” 

“Easy, Rosie-Love. Don’t forget about Papa’s ouchie.” John says talking a step towards them. Sherlock waves him off and Rosie pats his arm in the sling lightly. “Don’t let her hurt you, Sherlock.” John turns to Molly. “Thanks for taking her. Was she good?” 

“Of course. Always the perfect angel. I’m going to pop back down to Mrs. Hudson’s for some tea. Bye-bye Rosie.” Molly waves to Rosie and disappears down the steps.

“As I said, I best be off.” Mycroft clears his throat.

“I’ll walk you down.” John offers. Sherlock shoots him a puzzled look but doesn’t comment. 

John follows Mycroft down the steps. Mycroft collects his umbrella and his still dripping coat and drapes it over his arm. “Thank you for the tea, Dr. Watson.” 

“There’s plenty more where that came from, if you need it.” John nods, taking a deep breath. “And seriously, Mycroft. Go to the cemetery. It helps. It’ll be the only place that will feel like he can hear you. At least for a while, until you realize that he can hear you here.” John taps at his own chest.

“Thank you, John.” Mycroft gives him a thin smile.

John gives him a curt nod before opening the door for him. “Take care, Mycroft.”

Mycroft reaches the car and climbs in.

“Where to, sir?” Jeremy asks through the partition.

“Home, for now, I think, Jeremy.”

“Very good, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> The tea they were drinking I actually have in my kitchen right now. It’s a blend from Queen’s Pantry Teas in Leavenworth, Kansas. Their blends are available online as well: http://www.qptea.com
> 
> Part three is coming! Sorry for all the angst!!


End file.
